


For The Fallen Ones

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Grim Reapers, Guardian Angels, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, My Own Mythology, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: There are rules, ones that have been in place for millennia. Nobody has questioned them, nor broken them, that we know of. What happens when those rules aren't just broken but shattered?





	1. This Is Gospel

**Author's Note:**

> Another ditty from me; might as well keep it real. This has been sitting for a while and I git flustered as fuck last night because regular characters refused to talk. So. This happened. 
> 
> As always, this is unbetaed and a bit off from my usual. All mistakes, and I know they are there, are mine. I hope that it is enjoyed anyway. 
> 
> Major love to Snitches_And_Talkers for encouraging this mess. 
> 
> All the adoration to Laudanum_Cafe for dealing with my babble and making me smile always. Much love, Sweetie Darling. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this, it means more than I can say. 
> 
> Aural Pleasure: 'This Is Gospel' by Panic! At The Disco , the piano version specifically.

People were a funny thing, really. It was easy to forget, when you were watching them from a distance, how truly fragile they were. Not just physically but their spirit, that light about them that makes them who they are; it could be extinguished in an instant with no warning. I had seen it, of course, time and again, but from a distance. All of mine had, thus far, had flames that dimmed slowly and then vanished into a drifting plume of blue white smoke. How they were supposed to, when they were supposed to. It was one of the certainties of being a guardian angel; eventually, the ones that you are guarding, will pass. And never once had I had a problem with that; there had always been peace in it, a certain lightness about my charges as they passed. Until today. 

Today I watched, helpless, as this beautiful young girl’s life was taken far too soon, that light that had burned so brightly was extinguished in a mess of red water, tears, sorrow and a creeping, black plume of darkness. There was no dimming, not even a flicker or a fade simply nothingness. And I couldn’t stop it, no matter how far I flew or how fast I ran, it wasn’t enough. In the end, I couldn’t help the one person in the world I was supposed to. It wasn’t a failure, not technically; Angels couldn’t fail, per se, but it felt like it. 

That sorrow that washed over me as I watched, invisible in the corner, my bare feet not even leaving a hint of wetness on the hardwood floors as dark uniformed men and women in heavy boots traipses in an out, snapping pictures, zipping bags and clicking stretchers into place before draining the water from the tub, long cold and bright red, to leave a brackish stain in it’s place before clicking the door shut and leaving me alone in silence. It was heavy, almost suffocating with it’s presence as though it was in the room with me, squeezing in with every unnecessary breath I took and sneaking down my throat to curl, thick and dark, in my belly. 

I could cry, of course, I could weep and question and wonder what else I could have done, but that wasn’t my place. As much as I knew Katherine, we were friends in a sense, she made my coffee every morning and we had hung out on a few occasions, I wasn’t close to her. I wasn’t supposed to be, that wasn’t my job. I couldn’t actively interfere with a person’s fate; that would end in disaster, and not only for the human. I still felt lost though, as I wandered around the quiet, empty apartment simply wondering what happened next. I felt compelled, in a way I hadn’t before, to do something for this girl, as insignificant as it may have been at this point. She was special and she deserved to be remembered. A piece of paper, neon pink with stark black writing, was tacked to the fridge, advertising a concert for a band I remembered, in passing, Katherine had been excited about. Crossing silently through the kitchen, the tile cold under my bare feet, I tucked the well worn paper under the strap of my dress and slipped out the door, still unseen by the people that milled along the sidewalk as I made my way back to the apartment that I called home when I was down here. 

Hours later, after night had fallen outside, I was perched on a stool at a sticky bar ,the air filled with heavy, thrumming beats and a voice that would not at all be out of place back home. Katherine had very good taste. The gentle burn of alcohol tickled my throat and I spun the now empty glass between the tips of my fingers, the mess of silver bracelets on my wrist glinting in the flashing purple and blue lights overhead as I watched the crowd, my head peacefully fuzzy. 

Drinking, while not strictly forbidden amongst guardians, was not exactly encouraged for any of the myriad of celestial beings, either from above or below. While we couldn’t get drunk, per se, we still felt it’s effects, mostly in the absolute absence of whatever it was that allowed us to see those souls who needed help and to recognize others of our kind. The pull though, that unexplainable allure that the not exactly human had to humans was not at all changed, if the man on the stool next to me was anything to go by. 

He was talkative, thanks in no small part to the several beers he had finished while listening to the band on the small stage play, but there was something that didn’t sit well with me, although the constant need to touch me, either by accident or by “accident” was more than a small warning. After scooting back away from him for what felt like the millionth time, I forced a smile and found my voice, far too sweet to be anything resembling genuine.

“Would you mind just watching my seat? I have to make a call.” I didn’t wait for a verbal response, the slow bob of Johnny Polo Shirt’s head was more than enough, and I scampered through the crowd of people back through a narrow hallway towards the restroom. It was blessedly quiet as the door swung shut, leaving only myself and a dripping faucet in the small room. Twisting the taps, I let the water trickle over my hands before pressing them to my face and reveling in the cool dampness, such a beautiful change from the sticky, overheated air out in the main bar. The lights overhead, bright and almost garish against the gleaming mirrors and dark walls, twinkled of the jewelry that was stacked on my left wrist. Layers of silver bangles, with charms hooked on them, each one representing a life that I had guarded; a soul that was no longer on this earth, a heart that had long since stopped beating. The latest addition to my unconventional collection of memories was a small, pale green gem trapped in a web of delicate wire that hung directly next to a glittering, deep red droplet; Katherine, both her eyes and her heart. She wouldn’t be forgotten. 

A crash startled me as the door flew open and my silent reverie was shattered as a pair of girls, both teetering on impossibly high heels, stumbled in holding each other up. They paid me no mind and I slipped back out, unnoticed into the chaos. Surprisingly, or maybe not, my seat was still open, albit with a glass of what looked like whiskey in front of it that had definitely not been there when I had left. Resting my fingers on the glass, I raise a brow at Johnny Polo Shirt. 

“You looked thirsty.” It was far from any explanation and there was something in his tone that had me backing away, despite the hand that was resting heavily atop mine.

“ I’m fine, really, I’m not much of a drinker.” Apparently, that was amusing in some way, as it earned me a not at all amusing laugh.

“Really?” 

“Really. I’m waiting on someone and I’ll be heading out as soon as they get here, I’ve got to drive so… “ It was a lie, and a blatant one at that, but I had the sudden need to leave as fast as I could. There was, however, still the matter of the strong hand wrapped around my wrist. His grip wasn’t nearly tight enough to hurt, but it seemed a reminder, although I wasn’t exactly sure of what. 

“Someone… boyfriend? Girlfriend? Client?” The lecherous tone that lingered behind his words was not at all missed. 

“No, I-” I tripped over the words, simply because I didn’t have an answer for the rapid fire questions; there wasn’t one. There was no one meeting me, nobody at home or outside. I was as alone as you could possibly be in a city of seven hundred thousand people. 

“No? Then who?” The questions had gone rapidly from simple curiosity to digging for some answers I couldn’t and wouldn’t provide. 

“Trust me.” The words were whispered in my ear just seconds before a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me backwards just enough to both free my hand from where it had been trapped and to keep me on my stool. Twisting in surprise, I caught sight of a pair of pale blue eyes, a shocking golden ring around the iris, and an apologetic smile just briefly before whoever was behind me bent down and pressed his lips to mine in a sweet, very chaste kiss. 

I was still trying to process exactly what was going on when the man pulled back with a smile and a wink. “Sorry I was late, Angel, traffic was absolutely insane. We’re going to miss our reservation if we don’t head out.” Blinking as a hand rests easily on the small of my back, I finally shake myself from my stupor and give Johnny Polo, who did not look particularly pleased, a smile and a wave before finally finding my voice.

“Thank you for everything, you were a huge help. I hope you have a great night!” The forced pleasantry in my voice was evident, as was the slight break in my words as I pondered over what exactly was happening and, more importantly, the use of a particular nickname. There was no way this stranger could know what I was, it was impossible. I started to relax a bit more with each step that brought me closer to the doors, my newfound companion guiding me easily through the throng of bodies, but I couldn’t really breathe until I stepped outside into the cool night air.

I didn’t speak until we were at the curb, the stranger’s hand in the air to hail a cab. “ I’m sorry but who- thank you. I’m just.” The words were jumbled as I tried to make sense over what exactly was going on and he just smiled, pulling me closer and leaning down to speak into my ear, his voice soft against the sounds of the city. 

“Your admirer is following us.” Turning my head just enough to see behind us, I caught a quick glimpse of Johnny Polo Shirt, looking decidedly unimpressed.

“Damn.” The curse was barely a whisper and I could see the slightest hint of a smile pulling at my unexpected savior’s lips.

“We can… coffee? I’ve got coffee and tea and I really kind of want to get out of here. Plus, I owe you.” He gave a small shake of his head, hand still resting almost gingerly on my back as we both ducked into the cab that pulled to the curb. His fingers were warm and strangely grounding through the soft lace and silk of my tops, although I really, really tried to ignore that as I rattled my address off to the driver out of instinct, not even bothering to check with my companion before I turned to face him, the events of the day washing over me one by one.

“ I’m sorry, I wasn’t- I just… it’s been a really, really long day.” The words were as true as they could get, and although I didn’t elaborate, a look of understanding crossed his face.

“Believe me, I understand that. I’m P.M. by the way. Sorry I didn’t say it earlier, it was kind of chaotic.”

“ No, yeah, it was. I don’t usually go out like this, so. I’m Sera, well, Seraphina. It’s nice to officially meet you. And thank you, again.” 

“No thanks needed, Sera. And sorry about the nickname in there, it just seemed fitting, somehow, you know?” I couldn’t help my smile as I nodded, knowing that it was far closer to the truth than he could have ever known.

“It’s okay, really. I’m just thankful you were there.”

“Not a problem, I mean it. It was my pleasure.” I watched P.M. ’s gaze flick out the window to the buildings that we passed, the cab silent save for the soft, not quite familiar music that played lowly through the speakers. I couldn’t hear it, not enough to place it, but there was something soothing and comforting about it, as well as the silence that we lapsed into for the duration of the brief ride. As the cab pulled to a smooth stop at the curb outside of my brick apartment building, I fumbled with my wallet for the briefest of moments before P.M. handed a bill to the driver and opened the door, motioning to me with a smile that was far more charming that it probably had any right to be. His hand, once again, rested gently against the small of my back, a gesture that was becoming far too comfortable. 

 

Giving the red clad doorman a smile, we both passed easily through the lobby and the elevators in silence, yet another infuriatingly familiar piano tune tinkling from canned speakers as the floors ticked away, finally dinging open on thirteen. It may have been bad luck, but someone in charge had quite the sense of humor. Punching in the lock code, I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding as I pushed the door open, stepping aside and gesturing to my guest as I ducked into the cool, sweet smelling air of my apartment. Clicking the lock behind me, I absently dropped my wallet on the small table by the door and kicked my boots off as best as I could, sighing happily as my bare feet hit the hardwood even before I reached for the light.

“ It’s not much but it’s home. Feel free to have a seat.” The words were accompanied by a shrug and smile as I gestured absently to the still dark living room as I flicked on a small lamp, casting a golden glow over the room. 

“Thank you, and it’s nice, really. Very… homey.” There was a note of something in P.M. ’s voice that I couldn’t quite place, although I chalked it up to another human idiosyncrasy; they had a whole lot of them. The apartment was, for the most part, furnished in white, with splashes of pale blues and greens. It was kind of perfect, for me at least, especially with the amount of time I spent here.

“Thank you. Is.. can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea, I think I have some soda, I don’t really drink it much but if you’d like I can check.” I babbled as I headed to the kitchen, flipping on the electric kettle. 

“Coffee is fine, really. I’m not picky I promise.” His voice wavered in and out as though he were walking and I glanced over the breakfast bar to see his reflection dark against the large window that overlooked the always busy street below. Placing a mug beneath the keurig spout, I flipped the machine on at the same time music started to play from the living room. I didn’t recognize the song, but the lead singer’s voice was the same one I had heard earlier tonight in person and I couldn’t help but smile. Carefully setting my favorite teacup beside the now lit up kettle, I leaned against the kitchen door to see P.M. fiddling with his phone. 

“They’re really good.” He looked almost startled as he snapped his head up and gave a sheepish smile.

“Thank you, I’d take credit if I could, but I just manage them. They are something special, that’s for sure.” I opened my mouth to speak just as the Keurig kicked in and the rich scent of coffee permeated the air.

“I’ll be right back.” Humming absently to the music that drifted through my otherwise quiet apartment, I quickly made my tea and juggled both cups carefully as I headed back to the living room, carefully settling on the couch and holding P.M. ’s warm mug out to him.* 

“Black coffee, good Sir.” I was thanked with a bright smile and absolutely did not shiver as P.M. ’s fingers brushed against mine. Tucking my bare feet beneath me, I squirmed to get comfortable as we both sipped our beverages and the music played softly.

The conversation was fun and varied, and carried with it a comfort that I hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. I tended to stay away from humans, for the most part. There were, of course, cases in which that couldn’t be avoided, especially when I was down here. I could, and often did, simply choose not to be seen, but even when I was visible, it could very easily get lonely. 

There weren’t an inordinate amount of rules for us while we were down here, not really. There was only so much we could manage to do for our charges if we were bogged down ourselves, but there were guidelines that were pretty strictly enforced, although I wasn’t sure exactly why; everyone just knew them, it was something of a given. Not even angels were perfect, of course, and even the best of us slipped sometimes. We were all forgiven, although there was always consequences, although I’d never experienced them myself.

“Sera?” I was startled rather suddenly out of my thoughts by P.M. ’s voice, and I shook my head, brushing my hair out of my eyes as I returned my attention to him, my face warming as I blushed. His smile was the very definition of amused.

“ I’m sorry, I was just got lost, I guess.” It was the truth, in more ways than one. 

“Penny for your thoughts, then?” I watched as he set his mug aside and turned to face me, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“ What does P.M. stand for?” The words were out of my mouth before I could think and were received with a warm laugh. 

 

“For some reason I doubt that is what had you so far gone there, but I’ll take it. Patrick Martin. It’s a family name, of sorts.”

“It suits you. And honestly, my thoughts are not even worth half a penny most of the time, but thank you.”

”For some reason, I doubt that very highly.” P.M. ’s smile was gentle as he leaned closer, carefully tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his voice quiet as his fingers rested against my cheek.

“Am I misreading things at all? Cause if I am…” His voice trailed off as the room lapsed into silence, although it was so very different than any other I had experienced today. Instead of stifling and lonely, there was an almost electric anticipation as I turned just slightly into P.M. ’s touch.

“ You aren’t.” My words were quiet, barely a whisper, but they were heard, and brought a smile to the man across from me’s face; it was beyond lovely. A brief, almost broken thought flashed through my mind just moments before P.M. ’s lips were on mine, though it wasn’t directed at him. Even though it was something I’d not thought in a very long time, there was barely a moment's hesitation before I leaned into the kiss. ‘Forgive me’.


	2. Hearing Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mind is restless...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment in this little universe. It is brief, but I refuse to force anything, because I have OPINIONS on the matter, and it felt a natural place to wrap up. Sorry. 
> 
> Unbetaed because, well, that is how I roll. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make the world go round, seriously. 
> 
> It occurred to me as I wrote this, that the same nickname is used both here and in Halos. This was actually started before I began my edits on Halos and then kind of hidden for a while. But it is back now, and there are reasons to that nickname so... I promise I am not just that uncreative, honest. 
> 
> Thank you to SnitchesAndTalkers for reading my snippets, entertaining me at obscene hours and providing endless amounts of amazing tales and support. 
> 
> All the love and Stoli to Laudanum_Cafe for being her amazing self; I love you like you love Patrick's ass. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who not only read but commented, kudos and bookmarked, ESPECIALLY Kindchen. I am still in awe. I hope y'all enjoy this next peek. 
> 
> Aural Satisfaction is 'Hearing Damage' by Thom Yorke

It was still dark when I woke up, and the lights of the city peeked through my open blinds. My head was fuzzy, and not just from sleep. I could still taste the bitter, dry traces of alcohol lingering on my tongue and slowly, so slowly, the night came back to me in fragments that I struggled to put into place; Katherine, a pink flyer, the bar, Johnny Polo Shirt, P.M., coffee and then that kiss. That was what started it, a moment of indiscretion fueled by alcohol, grief, and gratitude that spiraled out of control. Longing, passion and a long forgotten need quickly escalated to hands that pulled at buttons and belts, torn lace and silk and, somehow, shattered china and spilled tea before we finally stumbled into my bedroom. 

There has been nothing sweet or pretty or even remotely romantic about it, not really. Drunken fumblings in the dark, tugged hair, sharp bites, and no doubt bruises. Beautiful, filthy words whispered against hot skin, slick with sweat. It had all been too much; too hot, too sensitive, too hard, and yet, at the same time, not enough. “More, now, harder, please…” I had muttered the single words between breathless moans, and quiet cries as my nails, blunt as they were, dragged along P.M.’s back -Patrick in those moments- as I had begged for things I hadn’t even known I had wanted. The alcohol dulled everything somehow, providing a pleasant buzz that let me act on feelings that had long since been ignored. 

I had some memories of my life when I was a human, although they were hazy, and thinking back to them was almost like watching a movie through a gossamer veil; I knew what was happening, but everything was fuzzy. I had been young, so young, when I had died, and there was so much that had been left unexperienced. There were moments where I had given into temptation, almost all of us had at some point, especially during the first few years of life as an angel. Those moments, awkward virginal, or near so, fumblings up above, past the pearly gates in the white walls of the garrison were ones that were best forgotten as the decades past. 

Everything with Patrick though, that was different from anything I had ever experienced. Even with the alcohol, there was a charge, an almost electric attraction to him that I couldn’t explain; the fire that raced through my veins was both magnified and pacified by his touch until we both cried out, ragged and needy, tangled together in a wet mess as chests heaved and curses, beautiful and obscene, quieted to sweet whispers and assurances before they faded altogether as we both slipped into a sated sleep. 

I could feel a warm, unfamiliar form beside me, the bed weighted down in a way that it hadn’t been in, well, ever. Pushing myself upright slowly, I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my chin on my knees as I watched the man sleeping in my bed. He was lovely, almost angelic, especially when he slept; he looked almost impossibly young, the lines and worry that I had seen cross his face briefly through the night were gone, and replaced with nothing but a peace that spoke of something that humans could only know in their dreams. 

I moved slowly, almost ridiculously so, as I slipped from my bed, naked as the day was long, save for the collection of bracelets on my wrist. They were all silver, splashed with bits of color from the charms that chronicled so many lives, save for one. Rose gold, with a single feather charm hanging from it, was almost buried amongst the rest. But this one was just a little bit different. It was warm, not just from my skin, almost as though it was lit from the inside, and it was the first of the many that now never left my wrist, but also the most important. I could almost feel it, pulsing with an energy that I couldn’t put into words, as I tiptoed into the bathroom and barely turned on the taps at the sink to splash water on my face in the dark. I could just barely make out my reflection in the mirror; pale skin, pale hair and little else. I looked the same as always, but there was something churning in my stomach that I couldn’t place, although that could have been the lingering alcohol in my system. Swishing some mouthwash, I quickly spat and made my way back to the bed, once agains staring at the man that was tangled in my white bedding. 

“Sera?” His voice was husky from sleep, slurred in a way that only the potent combination of sleep and alcohol could bring. Pushing himself up on one arm, P.M. looked at me, blinking against the darkness before rubbing his fists over his eyes as if to clear his vision. His glasses were on the bedside table, although he made no move to reach for them as I slipped back in the bed, my head still pleasantly buzzing. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I just needed water.” I slipped between the sheets again, the comforter rustling as I tucked it under my chin, and tried to stay as close to the edge as I could without falling off. It was cold though, the spot that I had deserted just a few minutes ago, and the warm hands and calloused fingertips, shockingly familiar now, that brushed across my ribs to pull me away from the edge were welcome, far more than perhaps they should be. 

“S’okay,” P.M. spoke through the mess of my hair as he wriggled closer to me, all warm skin and wandering hands. Pressed together from shoulder to thigh, I realized how short he was, although height meant very little to me. At four foot eleven, it was not hard to tower over me, although it was nice to talk to someone I didn’t have to crane my neck to look up at. “You alright?” While still thick and slow, the words were a bit clearer, and P.M.’s lips were warm against the back of my neck as his fingers stroked absently over my ribs. There was a rhythm to the movements of his fingers, almost as though he was playing a song I couldn’t hear, but I wanted to, more than almost anything. 

“I’m good, just still a little floaty.” Although the words may not have made sense to him, I could feel a nod against the back of my neck, lips curving into a smile as hands slid easily upwards, teasing over my nipples with a delicate touch. The cock pressed against my ass, however, was anything but and I didn’t hide my whimper as I wiggled backward. 

“Is this- fuck- is this alright?” The words broke on a moan, and one of P.M.’s hands moved to my waist, tightening just slightly, as the other slid down between my thighs, teasing through the wetness that already started to build in the same way that his fingers had ghosted across my ribs, as though I was an instrument; there was a reverence in his touch that I ached for. 

“Yes.” It was almost a sob, the single word, trailing off at the feel of soft lips against the curve of my throat and then a glaring, almost painful absence of warmth as Patrick moved away, rolling onto his back and wrapping his fingers around my wrist to give a delicate pull backward. 

“Can you just-” P.M.’s words trailed off on a gasp as I straddled his hips, gazing down at his hand wrapped around his prick. The lights that streamed through the blinds were dim, but I could see the faintest speck against the flushed dark of his skin, in a perfect stream of blue light; a freckle on the head of his cock that I wanted to taste. Now, however, was not the time. The hand on my hip guided me easily to exactly where I needed to be, and the sound that slipped from my lips as I lowered myself slowly, almost torturously so, down onto P.M.s cock until I couldn’t go any further would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances. 

“Fuck.” The whispered curse felt foreign on my tongue, wrong in a way that I like a bit too much, and I moved slowly, rocking with the gentle guidance of the hand on my hip. I gazed down at Patrick beneath me. His head was thrown back, hair a burnished copper against the pillow and his eyes squeezed shut, lower lip caught between his teeth as though he was holding something back. 

There was no frenzy, no desperate, clawing need this time; we were slow, almost languid; tender strokes whispered endearments and soft sighs. Still though, when I finally fell forward, my face tucked in the crook of P.M.s neck, I gasped for breath, my chest heaving while his hands, elegant and soft traced scales up my spine. I could taste the salt on his skin, mingling with the tears that I couldn’t seem to control as the fell down my cheeks. Emotion, as much as we liked to pretend it was a solely human construct, was not. The fear of falling apart, of becoming somehow less than what you know should be, somehow transcended the divide that separated celestial beings from humans, although I tried to hide it until now. 

There was, as it would turn out, a certain vulnerability that came with pleasure, one that we never really experienced back home, and it terrified me as I cried, feelings and emotions that I wanted to do nothing more than hide came rushing back full force. Memories of lives that had been lived, both to the fullest and cut far shorter than they ever should be, washed through my mind in waves, drawing out sobs that I couldn’t muffle. 

“Ssshhhh, it’s alright Angel. It’s alright, I promise.” Patrick’s voice was soft, and his hand traced lazy, soft circles over my back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake, the sweet nonsense he muttered growing softer with each passing minute as my sobs quieted to hiccups and then, finally evening into slow, steady breaths as I finally calmed from whatever it was that had washed over me in those moments. 

It wasn’t until I drifted off to sleep, still wrapped in P.M.’s arms that I even faintly registered the heat at my wrist, far hotter than it should be, but sleep was quick and sweet, and it was forgotten, brushed away with the gentle stroke of strong hands and the soft mutterings into my hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat on tumblr, I promise I am only a little awkward; AllKindsOfPlatinumAndPercocet . I will probably fangirl. Not even sorry.


	3. Angels Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a thing that happened. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make the world go around, seriously. 
> 
> This is unbetad, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Thank you, and homemade peanut butter cups to SnitchesAndTalkers and Ludanum_Cafe for listening to my ridiculousness and being insanely supportive. Y'all are amazing. 
> 
> Thank you all for taking the time to read this little ditty. I know how precious time is and I am honored that you would share it with me. 
> 
> Aural Satisfaction: Angels Fall by Breaking Benjamin

My pillow was moving, and far too hard. There was an ache in my head as I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight that streamed in through the blinds. The world was far too alive this morning. It felt like there was a faerie with a jackhammer in my head, tap dancing away and my mouth was thick, dry and sour. And my pillow was moving. Again. 

Pushing myself upright, I was greeted with a groan of protest from my pillow which… wasn’t a pillow at all. Milky pale skin, nearly as light as my own, almost glowed in the light against the dark sheets, gingery-gold hair was splayed across the pillowcase and lashes that had no business being as long as they were, were lowered not even fluttering with the easy slow breaths. 

Everything came slamming back to me, not for the first time, and my stomach lurched. What had I done? Clasping a hand over my mouth, I got out of bed as quickly as I could, still careful not to wake the man still sleeping in my bed. There was a jolt that coursed through me as my knees hit the tile and what little that was in my stomach came up with a wretch, acid and alcohol burning and spattering against white porcelain. The taste lingered, bitter and harsh, sticking in my throat like a jagged pill.

I let my head drop against the cool, clean tile of the floor and closed my eyes, as though I could will away the pain and nausea that seemed to resurface every time I moved. The bracelets on my wrists glinted in the sunlight that peeked in through a small, high window; the garnet and citron that were the newest editions seemed to sparkle brighter than all the rest and I wrinkled my nose, casting a nasty glance at the window as though my displeasure could actually be conveyed. Technically, I suppose, it could, although after a certain amount of decades, the powers that be stopped watching guardians so closely and I had long past that milestone. Then again, I had slipped, to say the very least and not only drank but had a one night stand with a human. Not the worst on the scale of halo breakers, but not exactly sterling level either. Speaking of halos, the rose gold bracelet, nestled between at least a dozen silver ones, seemed to almost hum against my skin, and it was warm still, far to much to simply be from my skin, even if I was running a fever which, at this point, may be entirely possible. Making a halfhearted mental note to check with Andy about that, I forced myself up, grasping at the toilet as I fought a wave of nausea.

Blinking against the pain that radiated behind my eyes, I carefully, so carefully, stood up and made my way to the sink, fighting off looking at my reflection until after I had brushed my teeth. I needed a shower, badly, the dried stickiness between my thighs and aching muscles attested to that. Baby steps. The cool mint almost completely got rid of the bitter bile, but it lingered in the back of my throat. Not even angels were immune to some things. Gathering my strength, I finally turned to the full length mirror and looked at my reflection. I was a mess, in every sense of the word. My hair hung in tangled waves down my back and around my face, sticking up here and there and remnants of last nights makeup were smudged beneath my eyes, amplifying the dark circles that were already there, thanks to nights spent staring up at the sky, pouring over books or watching something mindless to simply calm my restless mind. The most jarring thing, however, aside from the fact that I was naked as the day I was born, were the bruises; my paler than normal skin was covered in shades from pale pink to an almost angry purple, mottled splotches that had no real rhyme or reason scattered from my neck down to my thighs. I gently pressed on one of the darker marks, what seemed to be a fingerprint on my thigh, and winced at the subtle although definitely pronounced pain. They would fade quickly, one of the heavenly perks, but not nearly fast enough. 

Yanking my fingers through the tangled mess of my hair, I gave up on any attempt at making it presentable and let it hang back down around my shoulders as I grabbed my robe from the hook it always hung on and slipped into it, belting the ridiculous garment tightly around my waist. It was silk, with a delicate lace trim that barely hit mid-thigh, purchased on a whim one day when I had been out with Katherine. The memory tugged at my heart, just a little, and I struggled to push the emotions aside, along with the waves of nausea that seemed to grow with each passing movement. Popping open the medicine cabinet, I grabbed a small bottle of Tylenol, double checking the expiration date, and slipped it in my robe pocket before quietly opening the door to the bathroom. 

P.M. was still asleep, sprawled out on his stomach now, his arms reaching across the spot I had vacated. It struck me, once again, how very angelic he looked as he slept and if I was honest with myself when he was awake as well. There was a certain innocence to his cherubic features that made the filthy, beautiful words, expertly teasing hands and almost unbelievable stamina I’d experienced the night before all the more captivating. Shaking my head, stray hair falling in my eyes, I turned on my heel and silently made my way towards the kitchen, nearly tripping over an ornery ball of black fluff that was sleeping in the kitchen doorway. 

Gabriel was a stray, I’d found him less than a month ago, crying pathetically on the fire escape and had stupidly, let him in. He hadn’t left yet, and I didn’t think he would. He was a sweet kitten as long as his food and water bowls stayed full, and he was affectionate, but only on his terms. He did, it seem, have an affinity for sleeping in the most inconvenient places possible and I tripped over him at least twice a day, disturbing the twenty hours of sleep that seemed necessary for him. He didn’t seem to like me very much, aside from the fact that I fed him and gave him shelter, but then again, he hadn’t shown any signs of affection towards anyone yet, although maybe that was because I had only had angelic visitors. Vicky, Andy, and Travie had all stopped by on separate occasions more for social reasons as opposed to updates from the powers that be, and Gabriel had snubbed each one of them with a hiss and puffed up fur as though being threatened. He did, however, tolerate William, curling up behind the lanky angel’s excess of leg and going to sleep. There were times, although very rare, that the kitten would hop up while I was reading on the couch, settling onto the blanket always draped over my lap and kneading at the cozy material until he passed out in a small pile of black fur and needle-like claws. 

This morning, as with most, he simply looked at me with undisguised disdain, and a pitiful mewl as I tiptoed to top off his food; home forbid he see the bottom of the bowl. The kitten, seemingly placated for the moment, ignored me entirely in favor of his food as I gathered two bottles of water from the fridge. Unscrewing the cap from one, I popped the top off of the Tylenol with clumsy fingers, cursing the child-proof caps, and swallowed four of the tablets, chasing them with not enough water before making my way back to the bedroom, my footfalls silent on the hardwood floors. 

“Sera?” Patrick’s voice was raspy, heavy with sleep, and he squinted as he looked around, already sitting up as I entered the bedroom. The sunlight caught in his hair, burnishing it a messy, bright red-gold, as though he were wearing a halo. He looked far too good and my nausea, along with a growing unease that I couldn’t place, were the only things keeping me from the temptation of crawling back into the bed beside him and burying my face in the crook of his neck to sleep for a few more hours, at least until the headache faded. 

“Good morning.’’ My own voice had not fared much better; it was wrecked and I cleared my throat as I perched on the edge of the mattress, offering up a bottle of water and the painkillers in lieu of actual words. The gesture of goodwill earned me a sleepy smile, and half the bottle was drained before he popped two of the red and blue capsules before sliding his glasses on from their place on the nightstand. He blinked behind the dark frames, his eyes a blue-green that I had never seen aside from the sea as he seemed to finally be able to focus. 

“Morning. Are you okay? How are you feeling?” The concern was sweet, touching in a way I hadn’t expected, and I shrugged, sipping from my own water. 

“I’ve definitely been better, you?” I glanced up at P.M. through lowered lashes as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck before exhaling and giving me a small smile. 

“It feels like there is something trying to burrow into my skull if I am honest. And I desperately need a shower. I can wait till I get home if you-”

“No, no, that’s- you can. I can show you the guest bathroom if you’d like. It is fully stocked and there is a new toothbrush so you can, well.” I hadn’t meant to interrupt but had done so anyway. Clearly, I was out of my element and that fact did not escape Patrick as he stood with a slight groan, stretching his arms up over his head as his back gave a series of very contented sounding pops. 

As much as I pretended otherwise, I admired him as much as I could, taking in his expanse of pale skin, speckled with golden hair and more than a few bruises of his own to accompany the red scratches that ran down his back. He had an impressive cock, even when half-hard and, as it turned out, I wasn’t nearly as subtle as I had thought I was, and when I finally brought my eyes back up, I was greeted with a knowing smirk and a spark in blue eyes that were far too knowing. 

I felt heat creep up my neck and over my cheeks but I couldn’t seem to look away, no matter how much I wanted to. Patrick’s laughter was musical and sweet in a way that should really not be possible as he crossed to me, his fingertips gentle as they grazed over my cheek. 

“It’s a little late to be blushing, Angel, but I like that you enjoy looking.” Patrick dropped a kiss on the top of my head and gave another small smile. As much as he looked okay from a distance, up close I could see the circles under his eyes and the slightest grey cast to his skin. His movements, graceful last night, were just slightly stilted as he stepped aside and gestured to the door. “After you, my lady.” 

It took a moment for me to stop staring and actually remember what I was supposed to be doing as I lead P.M. down the brief hallway to the guest bathroom, holding my breath until the door was closed behind him and I heard the water turn on. 

 

Half an hour later, I was showered and dressed, although my jeans and oversized ‘Chicago is for lovers’ t-shirt and a pair of still wet french braids were not exactly appropriate for anything other than my kitchen. The scent of coffee hung in the air, rich and heavy, as I set out cream and sugar, stirring copious amounts of both into my mug before clasping it in my hands and simply enjoying the warmth. 

“I didn’t know you had a kitten.” P.M.’s voice was quiet and gentle, but it still startled me, and a bit of coffee sloshed over the rim of my mug as my head snapped up to see him in the doorway. My tiny, traitorous kitten was curled against his chest, ignoring the water that dripped from his still wet hair and purring up a storm and Patrick scratched behind his ears. 

“That’s Gabriel and he usually hates everyone. I’m not- wow.” The shock of seeing the ball of fluff not only near someone but actually being held rendered me stupid, apparently and my reaction earned a beaming smile. It was light and I liked it far, far too much. “Coffee?” I stumbled over my words but finally managed to get out something that made a modicum of sense. 

“I wish I could, really, but I’m late for work already.” There was something off, just slightly in his voice, but I attributed it to either the hangover of the claws that had grasped his hand, Gabriel physically expressing his displeasure at having his new, and only, favorite human put him down. If looks could have killed, the tiny creature would have both of us dead before marching over to his food bowl, tail in the air and swatting at his water spitefully, splashing it over the mat it was on before sitting in the corner, facing the wall. The feline temper tantrum filled the air with laughter, Patrick’s rich and warm and mine a high giggle as he crossed the kitchen and pulled me into a surprisingly strong embrace, given his size. “I don’t really want to go but…” 

His voice trailed off and I tried to hide the disappointment that I absolutely should not have felt as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Believe me, I know what it can be like.” My words were muffled against his shoulder as he dropped a kiss on my head before shifting back to meet my lips in a fleeting, gentle kiss. “I had fun, Angel, thank you. Can I take you up on that coffee another time?” There was a near hesitance to his voice that was calming in a strange way. Knowing I wasn’t alone in the awkwardness was comforting. 

“I’d like that a lot, just let me know when you are free?” There was more hope to my voice than I cared to admit, and Patrick smiled, tweaking the end of one of my braids. 

“Absolutely, Angel. Be good, okay?” I was barely able to nod before he pressed a light kiss to my forehead and adjusted his hat, giving a quick wave as he ducked out the door, leaving me alone, once again with Gabriel. That cat, as usual, did not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am AllKindsOfPlatinumAndPercocet on tumblr if you want to talk fic or fangirl.... to be honest, I will probably do both!


	4. Admit It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milkshakes and pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there are questions and answers... and more questions. I also play with mythology a bit, and dabble in Dead Like Me. Not sorry.
> 
> Comments and kudos make the world go around. Seriously, they are a great way to possibly get updates sooner as well. JUST SAYIN. 
> 
> This has not been betaed, as per usual. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> All the love and thanks go to SnitchesAndTalkers for being a sounding board, shit talker, and cheerleader extraordinaire. I am forever thankful. 
> 
> Love and Bloody Marys go to my dear Laudanum_Cafe. You are the Eddy to my Saffy and I love you more than Patsy loves booze. You are the best. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken their time to read this tale so far, it means more to me than you could possibly know. 
> 
> Aural Satisfaction; 'Green Light' A Cappella cover by Patrick Stump. Go to YouTube. Watch it. Come back and fangirl with me. I will wait.

Milkshakes and pancakes, good ones anyway, were strangely hard to come by in heaven. You would think, being heaven and all, that everything would be perfect. It wasn’t, and not just on the breakfast and dairy deliciousness front. That issue was exactly why there was a ragtag group of Angels gathered in a booth in the corner of a diner at three AM on a rainy Chicago morning. 

Andy, oddly enough, had been the one who had discovered it. As a Dominion, it was rare that he would even be on earth and visible to humans in any way, but there was something to be said for being a favorite of God and despite his non-traditional appearance and beliefs, he had never once wavered in his service, a position which he had held for millennia. He had been in charge of a small group of Guardians for far longer than I had been one, and there had never been an issue under his guidance. Which was probably why his propensity for body art, vegan pancakes, and milkshakes was unquestioned. 

Most meetings occurred in Heaven, the important ones anyway, but every now and then, mostly when the need for breakfast carbs could no longer be contained, we would gather someplace outside of an artificially chilled apartment for impromptu get-togethers. It was nice, sometimes, to simply feel normal. 

The diner was the very definition of kitsch; Black and white tiles on the floor, Formica tables with chrome trim, red vinyl booths and stools at the counter, neon signs, a pastry case full of classic treats and waitresses in poodle skirts and roller skates. We had been coming here on and off for years as a group, although Andy had discovered it when it opened decades ago. It was the kind of place where the staff knew your order on arrival, Buddy Holly played through the speakers and, most importantly, was usually empty at the obscene hours that we tended to congregate. 

Our waitress, her ash blonde ponytail liberally streaked with grey and a nametag that read ‘Flo’ pinned to her soft pink cardigan had just set down our orders and skated away with a grin, coffee pot in hand, towards the one other patron in the diner, a grizzled old man nursing a coffee and a piece of pie in the opposite corner of the place. 

 

Everyone but William had a regular order by this point; the lanky new guardian was working his way through the menu with a gusto that seemed almost impossible for someone of his size. Today, a sweet potato red flannel hash with poached eggs was his choice and, judging by the smile on his face, it was enjoyable. Andy, as always, had a plate of vegan pancakes loaded with fresh fruit and whipped coconut cream along with black coffee. Even the highest ranking angels had their faults. Vicky was tucking into a Denver omelet with extra crispy bacon and some proper coffee and I had just taken the first bite of my strawberry and cream stuffed french toast, washing it down with a long sip of chocolate malt when the bell over the door rang, announcing the arrival of more customers. Not unusual in the slightest; Chicago was a big city and the place was cheap and had amazing food. What was unusual, however, was sizzle pop of light bulbs bursting, the clattering of cutlery against durable porcelain and a sudden almost burning pain that seemed to hit all of us at once. There were several possible explanations, each one running through my head at a speed that would be incomprehensible to humans; God was enraged for some reason and calling us back to the Garrison. The likelihood of that, however, was slim unless he had suddenly developed a divine hatred for gluten. It could be the apocalypse, although that was, for the most part, simply a story. The horsemen were real though, and honestly quite kind, in what little interactions that I had had with them. A bit formal, but when you are nearly as old as time itself, that is to be expected. The Archangel Michael could be making a visit to earth which was rarer than an original UK pressing of David Bowie’s second album. Then again, I had one in my apartment, so that may not exactly be so unheard of. 

The last possibility which was, judging by the electricity that seemed to shoot through my skin where my halo rested amongst it stacks of silver, was that another celestial being, in some form, was near. I let my gaze flit quickly over my companions whom, save for Andy, had identical looks of pain on their faces. William’s slender fingers were clasped around the necklace that hung at his throat and Vicky was grasping her earlobes even as I worked my fingers under my bracelet. The form of a guardian angel’s halo, outside of Heaven, was chosen by the angel themselves, and more often than not, it was something innocuous; Jewelry being the most common. Andy, being a Dominion and older than all of the rest of us combined, had his halo etched into his skin amongst the swirling colors of ink that covered nearly all of his visible skin, save for his face. Normally, it went unseen but now, in the bright lighting of the diner, there was a glow that should be impossible just beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

His eyes, barely narrow slits, were fixed on the door and as soon as the shooting pain ebbed, William, Vicky and I all followed his gaze towards the door, although the two figures there were still cast in the shadow created by the exploding glass bulbs that lined the front half of the diner. There were two of them, both on the small side, although I was not really one to talk. The slight shimmer that seemed to lurk on the edges of my vision, a sparkling gunmetal silver, was the only indication as to what, exactly, the newcomers were. 

Each class of mystical beings had an aura of sorts, invisible to humans, but used by others of our kind to identify each other. There were more impossible creatures that walked the earth than one might realize; aside from angels, all of those creatures that had been reduced to myths and tales; Jack Frost, The Tooth Fairy, Sprites, Selkies, Demons and any number of other impossible entities roamed the earth, each with their own purpose and differently colored aura. Most, however, remained unseen by the others, but every once in awhile, paths would cross; it would seem that this was one of those times.

“Reapers.” Despite Andy’s appearance, his voice was high and soft, the word almost a whisper. As the two figures stepped past the edge of shadows, shattered glass crunching beneath heavy soled shoes, Flo skated her way from behind the counter pausing directly in my line of sight. 

“Holy smokes! You boys okay?” She sounded genuinely flummoxed, as was understandable, and the taller of the two reapers nodded his voice low. 

“We’re fine, thank you, Flo. Is there someplace specific we can sit?” I could almost hear the smile in the man’s voice, although there was something just slightly strained behind the words; no doubt it was the same thing that caused everyone at my table to wince. 

“Course, you boys sit anywhere you’d like. Coffee?” 

“Yes please.” The smaller of the two men spoke this time, and there was something naggingly familiar about the melodic voice and I struggled to place it but couldn’t. 

“Alright dears, have a seat and I’ll bring you some and then get this mess cleaned up. I told Mel that we needed to have the wiring looked at but did he listen to me? Of course not.” Flo muttered over her shoulder, gesturing towards the expanse of empty booths as she made her way back under the pass-through to gather her carafe and a pair of laminated menus. 

I didn’t have to wonder anymore as I met a pair of very familiar, very distinct eyes and the pieces quickly clicked together. Although it had been two weeks since that night, and there had been exactly zero contact, I hadn’t forgotten about Patrick no matter how much I had tried to. 

Swirling blue-green eyes widened slightly behind dark-framed glasses and ridiculously lush lips dropped open in something approaching, well I had no clue. 

“What? Oh. Oh! Shit.” The dark haired man that stood beside P.M. followed his gaze and seemed to almost bristle as his hazel eyes landed on first me and then Vicky, William and eventually Andy. Obviously not shy, he crossed to stand in front of our booth quickly, arching a brow. “Angels.” There was no question in the word, although he did keep his voice quiet, so as not to draw attention from either Flo or the man on the other side of the diner. 

“Reapers.” Andy replied in kind as William looked between all three other men, wide-eyed and Vicky simply stared at the newcomers. I, on the other hand, focused on my plate with an almost obsessive intensity. 

“Do you know each other? There is more than enough room for two more.” Flo appeared again, coffee carafe in one hand and menus in the other. 

“We do! That would be great if you wouldn’t mind.” There was a grin on the unnamed reaper’s face, bright and almost genuine as he plopped down ungracefully in the empty space next to Andy who simply fixed him with a stare and scooted closer to Vicky, bringing his plate and mug with him. Eyeing the spare space beside me, I slid my glass and plate with me as I shifted towards William and Patrick sat down as close to the edge of the booth as possible, his fingers locked in his lap. 

Flo, peacefully oblivious, just set the menus down, along with two cups of coffee and pulled out her order pad. “You boys ready or do you need a few?” 

“Why don’t you give us just a few minutes to catch up?” The words, again delivered with an almost disarmingly charming smile, seemed to serve their purpose and Flo skated away again, none the wiser. 

The silence that hung over the table, broken only by Buddy Holly crooning from the speakers, was almost deafening, until the unknown reaper finally broke it, almost good-naturedly. The sharp pain from my halo had faded to a slight buzzing with the proximity of the reapers, a strange little quirk that no one in the last several eons had been able to figure out. It was thought by some that it was an evolutionary adaptation, to deter notice from humans.

“I’m Pete, this is P.M. I’d say fancy meeting you here but that line is too cheesy even for me.” As he spoke, Pete tilted his chin to Patrick who looked anything but comfortable, twisting his coffee cup on its saucer with elegant fingers that I remembered far too well. It would seem, from the averted gaze, that he did as well. 

“Are you working right now?” Andy let his gaze wander pointedly towards Flo, Pie Man and the man that was working the grill, all three humans oblivious. 

“That isn’t your name, let’s be polite. But no, we are just in the mood for breakfast.” Pete was slightly admonishing, but in a way that was anything but rude, and I heard William stifle a laugh behind his coffee cup. 

Contrary to popular human belief, reapers were not the same as Death, although they did work hand in hand, as it were. Reapers did not bring death, they simply took souls moments before the Horesman did his work, allowing some peace for those who died. Much like guardians, in a sense, although instead of watching over someone for their whole life, they simply shepherded them to their next plane of existence, allowing them to go with Death in whatever form it took for them. 

“Good. I’m Andy. This is Vicky, William, and Seraphina.” Andy was unsurprisingly gruff, but not at all rude as he spoke to both Pete and Patrick. 

“Nice to meet you. Fantastic ink by the way.” Pete was almost jovial as he took a sip of his coffee, sweetened by an obscene amount of sugar and waved for Flo. 

“Thank you.” The prickly demeanor seemed to fade somewhat now that he knew there were no people in harm’s way, and once Andy began to eat again, William and Vicky followed suit. I couldn’t however, my appetite having vanished as soon as I had seen the man that was currently sitting beside me. 

“Alright boys, what can I get you?” Flo had her pen poised above her pad and glanced to Pete first.   
“Three egg omelet with swiss, mushroom and green peppers, bacon hash browns and a buttermilk short stack.” Pete rattled off his order with ease, handing off his menu to Flo as they both turned their attention to P.M.

“Just the coffee for me thanks.” Patrick spoke quietly, but he was not impolite, giving Flo a small if forced smile as he handed over his menu. 

“You got it. I’ll have it right up.” With that, she skated off again, in a whirl of petticoats, leaving the faintest hint of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. 

“Just coffee? Dude, you were the one that was fucking starving, what’s your deal?” 

It would seem that I wasn’t the only one affected by the surprise encounter. 

“Just not hungry. Let it be, Pete.” There was an edge of warning in Patrick’s voice as he looked at his fellow reaper. 

“Whatever, dude. More for me then.” Pete drained his coffee with a flourish, before turning his attention to Andy. “No harm, seriously. Just here for the food, like you.” 

I could feel Patrick’s gaze flit to me briefly, and I glanced up, meeting his eyes for just a moment, and I had to fight the wave of memories and the telltale prick of desire that stirred under my skin, pulling a blush to my cheeks. The reaction did not go unnoticed even as I grabbed my milkshake, taking a long sip of it in a vain attempt to ignore the two additional sets of eyes that were on me. 

“Sera, you alright?” Andy was concerned, as he well should be, although I’m sure he had no clue why. 

“I’m fine.” It was a lie, and not a little white one, either. I was as far from fine as I could get, but that was not a conversation for right now. 

“Holy fuck.” The smile that spread across Pete’s face was huge as he glanced between Patrick and me, obviously putting the pieces together. “You’re the girl from the bar. Oh shit. You’re the girl from the bar.” The smile faded quickly as the ramifications of what exactly that meant seemed to dawn on Pete, and Patrick went paler, if that was even possible, staring into his coffee cup. “That is all kinds of forbidden. How the fuck did you not know?”

“The girl from the bar?” Vicky sounded as confused as Andy and William both looked but as I looked at my friend, I could see realization dawning across her face. “Oh Ser, you didn’t.” 

“Does someone want to enlighten me on what exactly is going on?” Andy was calm, as always, although there was a hint of frustration coloring his tone. 

“What’s going on is that these two beautiful creatures are well acquainted in, what you might say, a biblical way.” Pete delivered the announcement in a voice just quiet enough that Flo couldn’t hear, even as she skated up with Pete’s food, setting the platters before him. Digging into his food with gusto, the dark haired reaper seemed almost nonchalant as to the announcement that he had just made as I felt my stomach lurch, at the same time Patrick dropped his head into his hands, dislodging his hat and letting a shock of ginger hair spill from beneath the brim.

William, bless his young soul, spoke up obviously before thinking. “Biblical. You mean they-” He was cut off as Vicky’s hand clapped over his mouth, effectively silencing the next words. 

Pete, smiling as he set his coffee mug down, nodded, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. “They fucked, Billy Boy.” The words were accompanied by a crash from across the diner, Pie Man’s coffee cup slipping to the floor and shattering into a mess of sharp-edged shards. Never had I related to an inanimate object more in my entire existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AllKindsOfPlatinumAndPercocet on tumblr. Come see me. I am awkward but not scary, I promise!


	5. They Show In Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storms and scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I am so sorry this has taken so long, and that it is so short. I have been sick as a dog and today is the first day I have been able to even open my laptop since Monday, I think. I am a bad, bad author. Please forgive me. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are magical and encourage updates. It is true. Science, even. 
> 
> This has not been betad because, well, it is me and I have an instant gratification problem. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Endless thanks and love to SnitchesAndTalkers for being the best cheerleader and more encouraging than I can even begin to deserve. You are the greatest. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time out of their busy lives to read this crazy tale, I am so thankful for you. 
> 
> Aural Pleasure: 'I Lied' by Electric Century because irony.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute, Sera?” Patrick’s tone was not exactly commanding, but I sensed that it was not entirely a request. There was a lull in the music as the song on the always running jukebox switched over to the next tune. 

Andy’s open palms hit the Formica tabletop with a resounding thud, the colorful ink that decorated his hands almost seeming to glow as a bolt of lightning flashed outside. Then again, knowing the Dominion that sat across the table, that was a very real possibility. “I don’t think tha-”

“Hey, Wings, maybe let’s let them talk? What’s the worst that could happen?” Pete spoke around a mouthful of pancake and I could almost hear the smirk in the words behind Patrick’s coffee cup which he had defiled with condiments. 

“It’s Andy. And that decision is not up to me, no matter how much I wish it was.” Five pairs of eyes, three worried, one amused and one with a depth I couldn’t place turned to me, and I pulled into myself a bit, sinking down in my seat. 

“Of course. I’ll be alright.” The shaky smile that accompanied the last words was more for Andy’s benefit than anything else, and it seemed to placate him, at least for the moment and he gave a nod as Patrick slipped out of the booth and gestured politely for me. I followed behind him silently, around the mess of glass that Flo hadn’t quite cleaned up and out the door, the bells jingling as we headed out into the storm that only seemed to be increasing. 

The rain fell heavily, chilly, fat drops spattering on my face and in my hair and streaking down my bare arms. I had left my jacket inside, although the denim would have done little against the onslaught. I could hear Patrick tisk under his breath just before a warmth settled over my shoulders. The scent of leather and a far too familiar cologne almost overwhelmed me as Patrick’s fingers lingered for just the briefest of moments against my hair before he pulled his hand back as though he had been shocked. He kept his head down, and I could feel the warmth of his hand even through his jacket as he steered me easily under a small awning in an alley just a few doors down from the diner. It was dry, mostly, but the storm seemed to be picking up and thunder rolled overhead as Patrick crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his red cardigan hanging over his hands and his lovely mouth turned into a frown. 

“What the fuck, Sera?” 

I blinked at the obvious irritation in Patrick’s voice and looked up to meet blue-green eyes that swirled like the sea; there was far too much in them than I could begin to fathom. His tone though left less confusion. 

“Excuse me?” Tossing my wet hair back from where it was plastered to my cheeks, I raised a brow in silent challenge, my hands balled into fists beneath leather that was far more warm and comfortable than it had any right to be. 

Patrick laughed. It was not the familiar, gentle sound I had heard during the one night we had spent together, but rather a dry, almost brittle one that was colder than the air that seemed to swirl around us. “Excuse you indeed. Tell me, Angel, do you make it a habit of drunkenly fucking strangers, or was I an exception? A bit of danger in your pretty little life? Some edgeplay to piss off your boss?” His words hit me harder than a physical strike would have and I reeled back as though he had done just that, my back hitting the cold, wet brick of the wall behind me. 

“How dare you. I don’t- I didn’t- I didn’t know.” I was equally angry and insulted as I tripped over my words, although the former was bubbling up faster than I could have imagined and I just barely refrained from stomping my booted foot against the wet asphalt.

“You didn’t know? You want me to believe that?” Patrick nearly sneered and I shook my head, fighting tears that stung my eyes. “You seemed so sweet. When did you figure it out, hmm? Was it before or after? You had to know. ”

“You asshole.” With both the accusations and the insult, the anger won out and I spit the curse through my teeth, my hands clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. “Did you know? Is that why you called me Angel? It seems a bit too convenient, in hindsight.”

“Of course I didn’t. I was celebrating and had more than a few too many. Believe me, I don’t make it a habit to pick up strangers from bars, much less ones that could very well get me fucking killed, or worse. I was trying to help you.” Patrick’s expression softened the slightest bit as a bolt of lightning crackled overhead, bathing his already pale skin in an incandescent blue-white light, his hair that peeked out from beneath his fedora was dark against his forehead, and he was slick with rain. He looked holy, beautiful and dangerous all at the same time. Home help me. His tone, however, was vehemently bitter, and I cringed, dropping my gaze, my voice quiet. 

“If you didn’t know, how the hell was I supposed to, hmm? I was drinking just like you were. You know the effects alcohol can have on us, you have to know. It dulls fucking everything.” I finally relaxed a bit, leaning against the wall and loosening my hands, my fingers cramping from the pressure. 

“Not everything if I recall. You were pretty fucking eager, unless you have forgotten, and not just once. You may still have had alcohol in your system when we woke up but you certainly weren’t drunk for the second round, Angel. That was more than liquor at play. Are you usually that easy or was I-” His words, both cruel and true, were cut off as my hand cracked across his wet cheek, my palm stinging from the impact as my hand flew to my mouth to cover a surprised gasp. I’d never hit anyone before, not in any way, shape or form, not even during my brief mortal life. 

Patrick looked stunned, his mouth snapping closed and his eyes a cold, dark blue, the color hauntingly familiar, even as I struggled to fight against the memories that were suddenly flashing crystal clear through my mind. Judging from the look on Patrick’s face, I wasn’t alone in my thoughts as I held his gaze. His eyes lowered for just a moment to rest on my lips and I let my tongue dart out to wet them, more out of instinct than need, the rainwater was cool and faintly chemical tasting, but it didn’t last very long before Patrick’s lips were crashing against mine. We both stumbled backward into the wall, hard enough that I gasped at the twinge of pain, but the sound was caught, muffled into Patrick’s mouth as his hand, warm even through my damp top, gripped my waist. The other one tangled in my wet hair, twisting at the damp strands to pull me closer, my body curving against his, solid and warm even through his rain-soaked cardigan and shirt. The kiss was messy; desperate and needy, teeth clinking together as my hands tugged at damp, sticky fabric. 

This was not right; it was as wrong as it could possibly get, in fact, and I had long since forgotten quite how many laws we were breaking. The trouble seemed almost secondary at this point, the farthest thing from my mind. Patrick’s fingers, warm somehow despite the storm that raged overhead, slipped just barely below the hem of my top, caressing the skin above the waistband of my jeans, and I pulled away from the kiss with a gasp. I could feel the smile on his lips as they trailed over my jaw towards my ear, pausing to nip at the tender skin, drawing a whimper from my lips as I fisted my hands into the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fucking hell, Angel.” His words were little more than a growl, lips never quite fully leaving my skin as Patrick shifted his weight, his cock pressing half-heard against my thigh. The hand that had teased at my waist slipped lower, down over the curve of my ass to grasp my thigh, hitching my leg, up over his hip. The drag of cold, wet denim was infuriating beyond belief and I whimpered in frustration as Patrick’s lips continued to tease along my neck, my head tugged back by the hand in my hair. 

“Good talk?” Pete’s voice drifted through the air, amusement evident in the words, and I jumped back as much as I could, stumbling into the wall before my head hit it far harder than it probably should have. The ache was sharp and intense, and tears welled up in my eyes although the pain was not the sole reason. Angels, however immortal we were, were not immune to harm or illness, especially guardians when we were on earth, although our healing time was significantly quicker than a human’s. 

“Oh fuck, are you alright?” Patrick’s voice, so cold only minutes ago, was concerned as his hands slipped over my scalp. His touch was soft and I could see him frown even though my vision swam as fingertips passed over the place my head had connected with the ragged brick. I tried to hide my whimper with very little success. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” Pete was closer, far more so than he had been a moment ago and I blinked away the tears as I struggled to focus on him. It didn’t work and a wave of dizziness passed through me, the world swaying on its axis as lightning crackled overhead, illuminating the night. I could see Patrick’s fingers that had been on my head, the pale skin smudged with bright crimson. 

“It’s okay.” My own voice was shaky and uneven, the words almost forced out as I fought the nausea that grew in my stomach. 

“You are a horrible liar, Blondie. Is that all angels, or just you?” The smile was back in Pete’s voice, although there was an undercurrent of concern behind it. 

“S’just me. I’ve never been any good at it. S’how Trick should know I was telling the truth.” It was harder than it should have been to force the words out, and even I could hear that they weren’t nearly as clear as they should be. 

“Sera, honey, can you look at me?” Patrick may have been trying to hide his worry, but he was about as good at that as I seemed to be, and his hand, the one that wasn’t tinted red, rested against my cheek, moving my chin back just enough for me to look up. I did, but it was not without effort and his face, pale skin, pink lips and baby blue eyes that seemed huge behind water speckled glasses, swam as darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

“Shit, Pete, help me. Fuck. The Dominion is going to kill us.” His voice sounded far away, as though I was underwater and it was a struggle to keep my eyes open. 

“He won’t. Andy’s a pacifist at heart. A teddy bear.” I giggled at my own words, fighting to blink away the blackness that threatened to take over as I grasped Patrick’s sleeves weakly. A second set of hands, larger than Patrick’s, and warmer, rested on my shoulders carefully shifting me on unsteady feet. 

“Sure, Angel. A Teddy bear with a flaming sword, maybe. Either way, we need to get you back in there. Do you think you can walk?” Patrick was encouraging, although his hand never left my cheek. 

I nodded, although probably ill-advisedly and tried to take a step forward. Instead of cooperating with me, my knees buckled and everything went black, the world melting away in a moment of darkness and sharp pain, warm hands on my skin the last thing I remembered before everything went blissfully dark and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Im over at AllKindsOfPlatinumAndPercocet on tumblr if y'all want to fangirl over superior writers and band members with me!


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